


Four Loves (The Canoodling on New Caprica Remix)

by Redrikki



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: 4 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, New Caprica, Remix, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4402934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/pseuds/Redrikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three loves which died on New Caprica and one which flourished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Loves (The Canoodling on New Caprica Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raktajinos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raktajinos/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Canoodling & Conspiracies Oh My!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185018) by [raktajinos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raktajinos/pseuds/raktajinos). 



> The ancient Greeks had four different words for the concept we call love: _storge,_ the love between parents and children; _agape,_ the love between man and gods; _philia,_ the love between friends; and _eros,_ romantic love and sexual passion.

**_Storge_ **

Rising up out of the relative darkness of the tunnels into the daylight was like walking into the dawn. This would be Maya’s last day under New Caprica’s cold sun and that fact filled her with joy. The sudden brightness made Isis fussy. She shied away from the light and burrowed her face into Maya’s shoulder. “Hungry, Mama,” she whined. “Hungry.”

“I know, baby.” Maya had fed Isis the last of their protein bars back in the tunnels. Her own stomach felt hollow and aching, but her daughter needed it more. Between her premature birth and all the Cylon rationing, Isis was so much smaller than she should be. “We’ll eat soon,” Maya promised. They would eat when they were safe and free and on their ship.

“This way, ma’am,” Anders’ men shepherded her along. They held their guns hidden under their coats, but their eyes were watchful. Thank the gods and Laura Roslin for sending them. Thank the gods and Laura Roslin for giving her Isis and a second chance at motherhood. 

Isis stopped her fussing and became almost eerily calm as the bombs went off and the world exploded into chaos. It was almost as though she knew the gods and Anders’ men would see them safely through. Maya clung to her daughter and that thought right until the moment she died.

**_Agape_ **

Boomer had been in a dark place after she had died, but Caprica’s talk of God and love had brought the light back in. It had poured into the ruined parking garage like warm honey, offering salvation and renewed purpose. God had given them a vision of a world where Cylons and humans could set aside their anger at the sins committed against them and live in peace. It was a world where Boomer could love her Galen, Caprica could love her Gaius, and everyone could love each other. It had been a beautiful vision and Boomer had done all she could to make it happen.

But God’s vision was a lie. Wandering amidst the bodies and debris on New Caprica, Boomer saw that now. No, God’s promised land wasn’t beautiful; it was squalid. It was humans shivering in their tents while Cylons converted their apartments into a prison. It was suicide bombs and mass executions. It was a fraking nightmare. 

There was no love here. Galen was married to the woman who had murdered Boomer and even Gaius’ affection for Caprica was laced with terror. Boomer had leveraged her reputation to bring her people here, but after this disaster no one would ever listen to her again. Thousands of humans were dead, thousands, and for what? If this was God’s love then Boomer didn’t want it anymore.

**_Philia_ **

Diana opened the next folder and stared in shock. “James Lyman is charged with carrying arms for the enemy, crimes against humanity, and treason.” She was proud at how steady her voice was as she read the charges aloud. 

Her hands hardly shook at all as she passed around the evidence. A picture of Jammer at work on _Galatica’s_ flight deck. A portrait of Captain James Lyman of the New Caprica Police. A collection of snapshots of the massacre at the Temple of Artemis, bodies splayed across the altar like offerings to the Cylon god. An incident report recovered from _Colonial One_. It had been written and signed by Captain Lyman himself. He and his men murdered 23 people for the Toasters and then he’d filed a fraking _report_.

“Call the vote. Guilty!” Conner’s verdict sounded more like a demand and Diana couldn’t blame him. After all, it was his kid dead in those photos. 

Diana listened as Connor’s verdict was echoed around the room, but she kept her eyes on the Chief. The three of them had been friends once, comrades in arms. They had fought, side by side, on the _Galatica_ , in the power plant, and in the Union. They’d manned the deck crew still together, built the Blackbird together. Diana and Jammer had danced, drunk and laughing, at Cally and the Chief’s wedding, and did it again at Duck and Nora’s few month’s later. Gods, Jammer and the Chief had been the ones to recruit her into the Resistance. Then he had betrayed them all and for what? Better rations and a chance to be called sir? Well, frak that and frak him.

“Madam foreman, how do you vote?”

They were all looking at her now, waiting to see if friendship would trump justice. It wouldn’t. “Guilty.”

**_Eros_ **

Laura lay abed in the gray predawn light and listened for the sound of her lover. She could hear the faint stirrings of her neighbors, a dog barking and there, finally, approaching footsteps. “Laura?” Bill called quietly from the mouth of the tent, his face lost in shadow.

Laura felt a smile bloom across her face. “Like clockwork, Bill, always before the crack of dawn,” she teased. They had been doing this at least once a week since Founder’s Day. Maybe someday he wouldn’t have to fly down to wake her up every morning. 

She flicked on the light in time to catch his rueful smile. Laura felt her own smile widening in response as she rolled out of bed and pulled on her cardigan. “You want to warm up the seat for me? I’ll be right out,” she promised and put the kettle on.

It wasn’t really coffee, the stuff she was brewing. It was just some native root that tasted kind of similar and had a bit of a kick. Laura tended to think of it as a metaphor for her life; it wasn’t what she’d asked for but it really hit the spot. After all, if she had gotten what she wanted and stolen the election, would she have Bill? No, they would have been stuck as President Roslin and Admiral Adama, sometimes rivals, sometimes allies, but always professionally distant.

Coffee finished, Laura poured it into two mugs, and headed around the back of the tent to the bench where Bill waited for her. She gave him a mug and lingering kiss before settling down next to him. Bill had built her this bench just so they could have mornings like this one. Maybe someday he would build her that cabin in the hills or maybe the Cylons would come back tomorrow. Either possibility was a lot less pressing than the feel of Bill’s whiskers as he drew a line of kisses up her neck. 

Laura cuddled against her lover and sipped her coffee. They watched as the rosy fingered dawn painted broad streaks of color across the sky. “It’s going to be a gorgeous day.”


End file.
